Two years.
Seven hundred and thirty days of calculated tinkering, relentless experiments, occasional magical hiccups, and enough secondhand embarrassment to last several lifetimes.
Elara had turned fourteen when Mira and Leo left for the capital. Now, at sixteen, she was no longer the awkward prodigy with oversized goggles and grease-stained gloves.
She was... something else entirely.
The Haarnadel and the Choker had done their work. With her body constantly bathed in passive mana flow, every cell adapted, strengthened, evolved.
Elara hadn't meant for the changes to be visible.
She simply wanted more mana.
More control.
More time.
And yet, somewhere along the lines of optimization equations and neural-saturation models, the side effects had escalated.
Her posture had become perfect, naturally balanced and fluid without effort. Her skin, once pale and sensitive, now held a subtle, ethereal luminescence—healthy, radiant, and frankly, unfair. Her figure—well, that was the worst part.
"Why do I have hips?!"
Elara glared at the mirror, scowling at her own reflection. Her robes, formerly functional and loose-fitting, clung in all the wrong ways. Or right ways, depending on who you asked.
"I didn't ask for curves. I asked for mana."
The mirror, enchanted or not, refused to argue.
Unfortunately, the world did notice.
It started innocently. A delivery boy stammered through his sentence when dropping off materials. A local apprentice asked if she needed help organizing her rune press—while blushing bright enough to power a lantern. Then came the letters. The poems. The unsolicited sonnets pinned to her workshop door. One brave soul had even composed an ode titled "Radiant Mechanist of Flame and Grace." It rhymed. Badly.
"What is this madness?!"
Tolan, of course, laughed so hard he fell off his chair.
"Congratulations," he wheezed. "You've accidentally optimized yourself into a teenage heartthrob."
Elara was not amused.
Yet despite her escalating popularity—and ongoing identity crisis—Elara had not spent the past two years idle.
Her laboratory, now nearly twice the size, was a blend of industrial forge, magic workshop, and alchemist's den. Every table overflowed with prototypes. Every wall held diagrams. And the ceiling was recently reinforced to withstand the occasional ceiling-penetrating broom from Manabroom 3.1.
Among her newer inventions:
Mana Weave Quilt – Automatically adjusted its thickness and warmth based on body temperature and weather conditions. Popular in royal nurseries.
Auto-Flicker Lantern – Used a dynamic light rune to mimic candle flicker, complete with variable romantic modes. Especially popular with bards.
Sound-Sifter Stove – A kitchen runeplate that not only cooked food evenly but also muffled surrounding noise. Became the number one export to noble kitchens.
Pocket-Cleanse Ring – A simple, one-tap rune ring that cleaned your hands (and up to ten fingers of grime) instantly. Revolutionary for field workers.
Message Mouse – A tiny mechanical rodent engraved with a basic message-transfer rune and mini storage slot. Could scurry between buildings and deliver letters like a magically powered homing pigeon. Children loved them.
Each invention pushed the limits of runic application.
Each device advanced Elara's understanding of mana flow, optimization, and subtle magical engineering.
And each one was, if unintentionally, adorable.
But none came close to her masterpiece.
The staff.
Not a wand. Not a stick. Not a glorified cane.
This was a symbol. A tool. A declaration of presence.
"Aetherlace Alpha", she had named it.
The staff stood roughly as tall as Elara herself—slender, forged of darkrun wood reinforced with mana-reactive crystal alloys. The base shaft had a polished finish with ergonomic grip, layered over with fine threading that pulsed gently when mana flowed through.
At its heart was a spiraling mana core—three twisting crystalline lines of energy, each representing a fundamental flow: input, modulation, and release.
The head of the staff bloomed like an open flower, petals made of folded metal-etched rune leaves that could shift position depending on spell type—defensive shielding caused them to close in a spiral, offensive focus extended them into sharp, angular lenses.
It had four distinct functions:
Precision Casting: Micro-adjustments of flow allowed Elara to manipulate spells down to a fraction of a percent. She could heat a cup of tea without warming the table.
Spell Storage: Through embedded anchor runes, she could pre-load up to three full-scale spells and release them at will.
Defensive Barrier: Upon twisting the base ring, the staff emitted a reactive shield—adjustable radius, duration, and strength depending on mana input.
Hover Mode: For travel. The staff could extend stabilizers and become a mana-powered glider—more stylish than functional, but excellent for dramatic entrances.
Elara carried it everywhere. Not for the attention. Not for the effect. But because she needed it. The mana she now wielded required tools of precision.
She was no longer simply an inventor.
She was a force.
Despite all this, part of her felt... off.
Mira and Leo had been gone for two years. No letters. No contact.
She knew they were in the capital. Doing well. Following their dreams.
But the hole they left hadn't closed. And the final words they gave her still echoed in her mind:
"We'll see you in two years."
Two years had passed.
What had they meant?
Elara didn't know.
But something told her...
She was about to find out.
To be continued...